


Freefall

by mxlia



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depending on how you define happy, It's Izaya for crying out loud, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 21:10:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11426244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxlia/pseuds/mxlia
Summary: It’s on days like this, when the sun is shining brightly in the wide blue sky, that you feel saddest.Izaya Orihara x Reader





	Freefall

It’s on days like this, when the sun is shining brightly in the wide blue sky, that you feel saddest.

The air is crisp and cool, a light breeze ruffling your hair. Far below, spring is beginning to awaken from her hazy slumber, shaking loose the final remnants of winter. _It’s a fresh beginning,_ you think. New life is taking root everywhere you look. Fresh green leaves unfurl; shy flower buds peer out from the ground. _It’s also the end,_ your mind whispers, and an eerie sense of calm washes over you.

There’s something about these kinds of days, you think. Something about how the sun brings everyone out from the safety of their homes. People crowd on the sidewalks and swarm the stores and cafes, stretching their arms and celebrating the arrival of spring. Cars pass, people laugh. Life goes on.

No one mourns the passing of winter. Why would they? Winter is a season of death, of bitter cold and skeletal black trees, of white snow blanketing the earth in a cold embrace. The warmth of spring is a welcome relief, a sign for people to smile—to be _happy_ again.

You hate it. A gust of wind sends hair whipping across your face and you stand up straight, spreading your arms as you toe the edge of the building. The wind buffets you around on your precarious perch, and you imagine what it would be like to let it push you over.

“Why don’t you do it?” a smooth voice speaks up from behind you.

You turn your head slowly, arms still outstretched. Your eyes meet the speaker’s—a dark-haired man of about twenty with a smile that is much too cheerful given the situation.

“It would be easy,” he continues, pushing off the wall he’d been leaning against. Sauntering forward, he spreads his arms in a twisted mockery of you. “I’m not sure you’d die though. Building isn’t tall enough. But then again, maybe that’s why you chose it.” He steps a little closer, stopping mere feet away. “Maybe you don’t actually want to die. Maybe you just want to _feel_ again.”

You blink, instinctively taking a step backward, but there is only air behind you. You wobble on the edge of the building, your heart in your throat.

The smiling man reaches out and grasps your wrist tightly, pulling you back to safety. “Why do you look so afraid? I thought you wanted to jump.”

You are very aware of his hands moving to your shoulders, his touch gentle but firm. You are very aware of the fact that he could push you to your death at any second. Still, you can’t help yourself. “Stop talking like you know me or my life at all,” you snap, pushing his hands away.

He laughs. “Oh, but I do know you. I know that you live alone in a small apartment on the west side of Ikebukuro. I know that you don’t get along with your mom. You fight a lot, don’t you?”

Your fists clench. “Shut up.”

He leans closer, his fingers clamping down on your shoulders tightly. “It hurts to see everyone around you so happy, doesn’t it? You probably don’t have many friends. And ever since your boyfriend left you for another woman, you’ve just felt lonelier. You were together for three years, weren’t you?”

A strangled sob tears free from your throat. “Shut up!”

Somewhere on the street below, a man calls out a woman’s name. Your eyes seek out the source of the sound, your body deflating a little when you see a giggling woman join him, their hands twining together. Slowly, your fists unclench. The man standing before you, this smiling devil, is still holding onto your shoulders. “I’m not some kind of stalker, just in case you were wondering,” he tells you offhandedly. “I’m an information broker. The name’s Izaya Orihara.” A pause, as you stare him down silently. “No need to introduce yourself. I already know your name.”

“I wasn’t going to introduce myself.” Your voice is a hoarse whisper.

“Because you’re going to die soon, and you don’t see the point?” Izaya asks innocently.

You shove him away. “You’re an asshole.”

Izaya’s smile widens. “Do you hate me?”

Sheer disbelief overtakes your expression. “What?” 

He shrugs, a picture of nonchalance. “An ordinary person would hate me. Do you?” 

“I...I…” You can’t quite answer. The words stick in your throat like glue, and you swallow thickly before trying again. “I h-hate...that you’re right.” 

You didn’t think it possible, but Izaya’s smile grows even more. “Am I?” My, my.” 

He still pisses you off, and you don’t waste time in telling him so. “Not about everything though,” you clarify quickly. “It was only two-and-a-half years.”

The information broker shrugs, still looking much too jovial. “I rounded up.” Then he smiles. “He started seeing the other woman two years ago, you know.” 

You deduce that this is his way of telling you that your ex-boyfriend had been cheating. “I don’t care,” you lie. Izaya doesn’t comment, though you see his eyes flash in amusement at the falsehood. Ignoring it, you voice a question that has been plaguing you ever since he introduced himself. “So what’s my name? You said you already knew it.”

Izaya says your name, and though you hate to admit it, part of you likes the sound of it coming from his lips. “Nice to meet you!” he adds cheerily. 

You scowl, and he laughs. For a few moments, you are in a standoff, two dark figures silhouetted against the sky. A breeze ruffles your hair and you are suddenly very aware of how long of a fall it would be to the ground below. Hesitantly, you step down from the ledge, Izaya’s eyes following your movement. Once both your feet are planted firmly on the ground, you meet his gaze again. He is taller than you, so you are forced to look up at him, hating how small you suddenly feel. Silence stretches between you. Izaya doesn’t seem to mind it, but you are slowly going mad, staring at his serene, smiling face. 

Finally, you decide to speak. Victory flashes briefly across Izaya’s face as soon as you open your mouth, but you don’t notice. “Are you going to stand here all day?” you ask irritably. 

He shrugs, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Do you want me to?”

"No.” Your response is harsh and immediate. 

Izaya laughs. “Then tell me, what do you want?” 

No one has asked you that in a long time. You hesitate, heart thumping erratically against your ribcage. “I…” The words stick in your throat. “I want to go home.” 

Izaya extends a hand to you and you eye it suspiciously. He notices your reluctance and grins, waggling his fingers. “Come on now, I just want to walk you home,” he says, all smiles and feigned innocence. 

You don’t buy into his act for a second, but it’s been months since someone has offered you help. Slowly, you reach out and take his proffered hand, simultaneously loving and hating how warm and solid his fingers are. “You’re still an asshole,” you tell him flatly. 

He says nothing, but a peal of laughter escapes his lips, almost manic in its joy. Then he is leading you to the door and off the rooftop, and you allow him to. 

Maybe it’s a mistake to trust Izaya Orihara, the famous information broker of Ikebukuro. Undoubtedly it’s a mistake to get involved with him, no matter what the capacity. But at that moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. You are falling—not from the roof as you intended but into his web instead.

Still, all you can think about is how it feels so very good not to be alone anymore.


End file.
